


Emesis

by Elysifer



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Codependency, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, M/M, Persona 5 Big Bang 2019, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Hatred, Verbal Abuse, fancy nonsense that isn't even completely linear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysifer/pseuds/Elysifer
Summary: She's in the chair.Akechi doesn't have to look directly at it to sense her presence. Her everlasting stare of disgust that seeps into the skin on his back, the way it engulfs him in an aroma of dread and decay… It's all so fresh in his mind.-“I'll kill you one day, baby. I swear to God, I will.”





	Emesis

**Author's Note:**

> Finally!! It's done! Thank goodness. Warnings for huh, lots of abuse and all around horrible stuff written Fancy Like. None of this is supposed to be crystal clear or even make complete sense. I really wanted to get into Akechi's mind & how it might be like to be him as a kid, with no parents or friends. So it jumps around a lot. There are things said that I haven't written. Between the line stuff.

_“When the city sleeps, I'm awake,_

_Caught up in the dreams, I can't create,_

_When the city sleeps, I'm awake,_

_Locked up in my mind, I can't escape,_

_There's nothing I could do but wait,_

_I call you crying ‘cause it's too much pain,_

_I can tell you don't get it,_

_‘Cause you tell me everything will be okay.”_

_-Mercy/Gatekeeper - Hayley Kiyoko_

 

_-_

 

People say at their core, human beings share the same fundamental beliefs and values. That no matter their differences- be it their race, background, or gender- that every individual can connect through each other's hearts, and that the goodness of humanity is real and present in each and every person.

Akechi Goro thinks that statement is undoubtedly bullshit.

It is what the preachers speak of, what the religious figures teach people from infancy, what parents whisper to their children at night. That every person is good in their soul. However, Akechi thinks differently. He believes humans are capable of such things, yes. They have the ability to be, but having the ability doesn't mean they _are_.

In truth, those same people who spit words of goodness are in fact, tainted themselves. Priests who rape little boys, parents who hit their children, teachers who turn a blind eye to abuse. They're all disgusting monsters in disguise. _Them_ , with their hypocrisy and lies, all woven into a pretty looking web to catch naive butterflies in.

Akechi finds it absolutely hilarious that those people turn their nose up at _him_ . They see him and think, _oh that grossly useless child, how unfortunate that we have to look at him_. Rare, do they ever try and hide it. It's more common for the false pity to be magnified in their stare.

He wouldn't be surprised if one day demons all bursted out of their human shells and-

“ _God!_ Move, move! I said _move-!_ No, not to you, I meant for this jackass in front of me. He won't fucking move fast enough. Doesn't he know this is Tokyo?!” Sasaki Aoi screams boorishly from the front seat of her car, jerking Akechi out of his inner ramblings.

It seems his new foster mother would fit right in with the rest of the demons.

He glances at Sasaki from his place in the backseat. She's nothing he hasn't seen before; a thirty-something salarywoman with no children or husband to speak of isn't uncommon. Still, it leaves him wondering what a person like her is doing fostering children. Akechi would peg her as a lonely woman looking to adopt a child- perhaps after years of miscarriages- but it seems she doesn't have a motherly bone in her body, seeing as she simply ignored him ever since she picked him up at the institution.

Akechi continues watching her from the rear-view mirror, seeing Tokyo's city lights dance across her pinched face.

Sasaki grips onto the steering wheel with bright red nails and slams down on the gas to pass the other driver, rolling down her window and throwing him the middle finger as she does.

“So, as I was saying before that asshole interrupted me,” she says, phone pressed to her ear with her shoulder. “I need you to go over the documents I sent you okay? Just want to make sure everything's good for the boss, you know?”

Sasaki stops a red light and uses that time to talk animatedly to the person on the other end. Akechi looks out of his window again, and spots an absurdly dressed woman with two other people taking pictures of her. She's posing with her body slouched like she doesn't care, while showing off her checkered print monstrosity of an outfit. Akechi imagines a demon crawling out of her body, splitting her pretty face in two.

The light turns green and the woman gives an unattractive laugh once the cameras lower.

“What? Oh yeah… Yeah, I got him. I don't know he's pretty quiet back there. Gives me the creeps, actually,” Sasaki says. There's an overly done-up laugh on the other end and her face scrunches up. “I'd like to see you do this! Besides, I don’t think it’ll be that hard. He’s the same age as my niece.”

Akechi watches the people thin out as they drive into smaller streets, leaving the business of the core, behind. Eventually they pull into an apartment complex, and Sasaki finishes her conversation, dropping her phone into her purse.

She sighs and tilts her head back against the headrest before looking at Akechi in the rear-view mirror.

“Okay, rides over. Time to get out.”

They exit the car and Sasaki throws him his bag when she takes it out of the trunk. She hikes her purse over the shoulder and starts for the stairs, not checking to make sure Akechi's following her.

Sasaki stops at door _103_ and rummages through her purse to fish out her keys. She jams them into the lock and shuffles with it a bit.

“This-” Sasaki gives a firm kick to the door to finally open it. “-is my home. It's nothing crazy so don't get too excited, but it's _mine_ , so you touch anything you're not supposed to and I'll send you right back, got it?”

Akechi nods.

Sasaki goes inside first, and then waits for him to come in before slamming the door shut behind them.

“ _Finally_ ,” Sasaki says, flipping her heels off.

Her apartment is a little bigger for a single person living in Tokyo- a couple could easy live here if they were close enough. He can see her living/dining area to the right- a small two-seater couch and table, with a fat television across from it. Her kitchen and bathroom must be on the right side of the apartment then.

“Uh, _fuck_ , I’m tired. Been working at the office since seven in the morning,” she says as she drags the dining table a little further from the couch. “Here, just roll the couch out when you feel like sleeping. It's a pull-out. Blankets are on the table. I'm going to bed.”

Akechi does as he's told while she changes out of her work clothes. He tries to make his space small and tidy but it's already a tight fit. He hopes she won't mind too much.

Sasaki moves a curtain to the side, and reveals another room. Huh, so that's where her bedroom is.

“This is my fish. Don't have a name for him, just fish,” Sasaki says, pointing to the small fish tank that sits on a stand in her room. “I got it a while ago, a gift from my parents. I'm pretty sure they just got it from a friend though and didn't know what to do with it so they gave it to me. They're like that. They don't give me anything without a reason, hah.”

Akechi feels a ‘sad backstory’ vibe from Sasaki and politely doesn't comment. He knows from experience what impulsively venting your frustrations can do to a person. He hopes for his own sake, that Sasaki isn't like that.

“It's small,” Akechi says instead.

It's true, the size of the fish is almost unnaturally small. Of course, tiny fish do exist, but this one looks particularly small, in a way that comes off as ill.

“Yeah… It's not doing so good. I feed it and shit, but I don't know. It's only been happening recently too. Whatever. I'm sure it's fine, right?”

Sasaki isn't looking for an answer, and so Akechi doesn't give her one. Although he speaks more often now, giving her more than one word sentences, he still doesn't feel comfortable enough to let out more than that.

“Right. Good we got that out of that way. Now, sleep.”

She flops down on her bed, dress skirt and all.

“Alright. Goodnight, kid.”

“Goodnight,” Akechi whispers.

Akechi hears the sheets ruffle for a bit before it's silent. He lays down and puts his head on a worn pillow.

From the corner of his eye he sees a shape shift on the chair. It's gone the second he looks straight at it though, so it must be a shadow. It doesn't help rationalize any feelings in the pit of his stomach, but he vows to forget about it.

 

_-_

 

_Long brown hair tangling up in his hands, dark eyes filling with pools of blue, and sharp red-lipped smiles across his cheeks._

_Swirling, swirling, swirling, all around-_

Akechi wakes up to a finger poking into his side and long black hair tickling his face.

“Hey… You up? We gotta have that talk now,” Sasaki says, still keeping her nail firmly in him.

“Yes,” he says with a sleep clogging his voice.

“Ah, that's good. Okay, get yourself presentable and meet me in the kitchen.”

Sasaki leaves with her hair swishing behind her, and Akechi heaves himself out of bed, lower back pinching from the uncomfortable mattress. He grabs his carry-on bag from where it rests beside the couch, and moves to the _toire*_ to change his clothes. He's a bit worn out from the travel, but he decides he'll bathe later when Sasaki's working.

When he exits, she's waiting there in the kitchen with her briefcase and a piece of toast on a plate.

_Tap, tap tap_.

Sasaki's bright red nails tap rhythmically against the counter. Her posture is stiff, her stance wide. Her attire oozes professionalism; she's obviously a slave to her desk job but apparently takes it seriously enough to keep up appearances.

She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and puffing out her chest so he knows she means business. He's seen this tactic in action multiple times throughout his years in foster care, but admittedly, she pulls it off well. Her eyes are cold; barely there makeup unable to hide their iciness. He finds it suits her well anyway.

“Listen. I’m going to say this once and only once. You’re here because I need to look good in front of my boss, not out of the kindness of my heart or any bullshit like that, got that? He's one of those progressive bitches who think that everyone in the world just needs to hold hands and sing together. Helps that his niece was an orphan too- surprising, I know. Can't imagine many of you get adopted.” Akechi doesn't answer. He knows she isn't looking for one anyway. “So, there's lots of people like me- lots of competition. There's a new job posting coming up in a few months and I know from rumors that he's going to be conducting the interviews. Obviously, if you want to get to the top you have to be willing to make sacrifices. That's what you are.”

If anything, he appreciates her honesty. It's hard to come by these days, especially when it comes to foster parents. Akechi had dealt with his own sugar wrapped lies before- the adults in his life aren't the most truthful.

“I’m not going to be your temporarily mother but I’m not going to treat you like shit either, okay? This can be a beneficial arrangement for the both of us. I take you in, save you from that hell at least for a little while, you make me look real impressive, you got that?”

He nods, small and careful, and hopes that's enough. Luckily it is, and she gives him a slow smile in return; predatory, like most of the smiles he sees.

Adults tend to use him for their own benefit, whether it's a mini sized punching bag, or a being to inflict their desires upon. But already she's offering him more than what he usually gets, and it's too good to pass up. He can’t say he likes her, but he understands her position. Everyone in this world is looking out for themselves after all, she’s only doing the same.

“Good. Now that we got that settled, I have to inform you we’ll be going to a work event. It’s just one so don’t worry.” He doesn’t open his mouth in question but she expands on it anyway, “Yes, you’ll be coming with me. I mean, what’s the point in having it on paper but being unable to prove it? I already know I have other coworkers who are thinking about doing the same thing and I want to get a head start. Plus, it might look suspicious if we all started fostering children- hopefully this'll discourage them.”

The coffee machine starts beeping and it startles Sasaki out of her mini speech.

“Oh, shit-! I have to get to work now, I probably won’t be back until later- not sure when. There’s food in the fridge. Make yourself something if you’re hungry, I don’t care.” She’s rushing all around the kitchen, drinking her steaming coffee like it’s water and stuffing papers into her briefcase. “We’ll talk about your school when I get back, I think I have to pick up your uniform tomorrow… What a pain.”

Smashing her feet into her black pumps, she grabs her keys, half heartedly waves, and then she’s gone.

 

_-_

  


Sasaki comes back from work at about ten at night. It's obvious from the way her cheeks are flushed red that she's been drinking. When she sees him sitting on her couch she sighs and rests a hand on her head.

“Fuck… I forgot you were here.”

Akechi wants to snap back that it wouldn't be the first time someone forgot his existence, but he bites his tongue back.

She stumbles her way over to the couch and gestures him for him to move over. She sits down like a lifeless heap and grabs the remote control to switch on the television.

“Right. Mind numbing time.”

Much to Akechi’s annoyance, it's hours later that Sasaki manages to pull herself off the couch so he can make his bed. Without a single word to him, she yanks open her curtain and falls face first onto her unmade bed- makeup still clinging to her skin.

Akechi lies down on the pull-out and whispers to whatever higher power is listening, goodnight. He distantly hopes that it's the ghost of a woman he once knew, just to know that he still remembers her.

 

_-_

 

School, Akechi finds, is completely and utterly unbearable.

Crawling with dimwit children and aggravating adults, it's the perfect place for humans to turn to their natural barbaric behaviour- eat or be eaten. His classmates form a not-so amusing hierarchy, and place him below all the others. He's an outsider; new and vulnerable, his very existence is a foul spot on their clean little bubble. To make matters worse, he comes from an orphanage _and_ gets fostered repeatedly, which is already a rarity in itself.

He couldn't have painted a clearer target on his back.

Adults turn away when some older boys he isn't familiar with, take him away to the washrooms. He tries to pull away and bring his arms up to cover his face but it's no use. Their punches and kicks leave marks on his skin, just like their words do.

They call him pretty. So pretty he must be a _girl_ , must be some kind of slut, and that's hot, right? They tear at his clothes and pull at his hair, laughing when they see tear tracks make their way down his cheeks. Akechi tucks his head in so they can't see his face and crumbles into a ball on the ground. It doesn't make the voices go away or the hands stop their torment but it creates a space just for him, and for a while he can pretend he's somewhere else.

Eventually, they get bored.

They walk off one by one, some leaving stupid taunts just so he will remember and quake in fear. He doesn't. Akechi has had enough experience with kids like these that he isn't afraid of them or their words. They may _hurt_ , but he isn't afraid, never afraid. He takes it with as much bravery as he holds within himself, and aims to survive.

That's all he can do. It is all he is capable of doing. _Survive_ . A word whispered to him on late nights with _her_ wrapped around him. While she was bruised up just like he is now, arms hurting and legs shaky. He remembers her anger- feels her deep frown in the lines of his own, and gets up.

_Survive_ because that is all they are able to do, survive because they are alive. Hurt because that means they can feel and that means they live and breathe. Rejoice in the pain because that means they can see another day.

Akechi takes in his battered reflection in the washroom mirror, every split in his lip, every cut on his face. He washes the blood away in the sink, and watches as the water turns red. His bones ache when he turns the tap off, and dries his face as best as he can.

“I am strong, I am capable, and I am _better_ than these stupid, fucking kids,” Akechi whispers to himself, voice full with hatred. Venom lingers in the air around him and he carries it deep in his body.

_‘Love_ , _’_ Akechi thinks, _‘is a dangerous disease that only makes the weakness grow stronger. Hate will act as fuel and strengthen you.’_

He takes three big deep breaths in and out, and waits until his hands have stopped shaking to walk back to the classroom.

The rest of the day moves in a similar fashion. Rumors spread, and children look at him with either fear or anger. Either way it doesn't seem to matter because he always ends up in the same place, head between is knees and fingers clutched together.

Shadows skirt his vision.

 

_-_

 

When Sasaki returns home, it's ten to six and Akechi's sitting on the pull-out, going over some homework assigned to him in class that day. He makes a mental note that when Sasaki doesn't drink afterwork, she comes home at about 6PM.

“Yeah... I know he's a dick, I know. Trust me, the only reason why he's still here is ‘cause of his dad, otherwise that bastard would've been fired a long time ago,” Sasaki says.

Her voice bounces against the walls when she speaks, even if it's particularly quiet. Akechi wonders what it would sound like if she screamed.

Akechi taps his pencil against the paper, _tap tap tap_ , like the sound of Sasaki's nails against the kitchen counter. He does it a little too hard and crushes the tip, lead snapping off and leaving an empty hole.

Sasaki's bare feet slide on her floors and barely making any sound. It's too little noise for him, so he strains his ears to catch tidbits of her conversation.

“You too? He gives me the creeps. Honestly when I'm alone with him I feel worried… I'm sure it's nothing though, don't worry.”

She sounds concerned, the tone of her voice doesn't match his image of her.

She enters the living/dining room finally.

Sasaki takes one look at him and sighs audibly into her cell phone. He hears a concerned _‘what’_ from the person on the other end and she clicks her tongue.

“Nothing. Just had a long day, I'll call you back, okay? …Yeah, okay. Bye.”

She closes her phone shut with a snap, and studies Akechi for a few seconds. Then she goes to the kitchen, opens her fridge, and takes something out.

“Here,” she says, handing him some type of fruity drink.

“Thanks…”

They sit on the couch together, and watch the news, not speaking.

If this is how Sasaki reacts every time he gets roughed up a bit, he's thankful.

 

_-_

 

Sasaki made breakfast for him.

It's Akechi's first thought when he wakes that day to the smell of home cooked eggs and honeyed toast. It's not much, not even Japanese, but he doesn't care. She made him breakfast out of some kind of misplaced pity for him, and thought he would be thankful.

He stares at what he can only assume is his plate, once he's dressed and ready for school. His backpack waits for him by the entrance, and the food waits for him on the kitchen counter. Both are decidedly important, school and food, education and nourishment. Still, he wants neither. His stomach screams at him to fill it but his mind yells at him to throw it in the garbage.

Would Sasaki care? Would _she_ care?

The word _waste_ sloshes through his brain like running water, and so he forces himself to take a bite. He picks up the fork and impales a piece of egg on it, shakily bringing it to his mouth. Metal hits teeth and he crunches down on it just to make it steady. Egg is recognized by his taste buds and-

He's hacking into the sink, dirtying the sparkle with vomit. It builds up in his stomach and spills up in his throat like it belongs and _oh_ , he's missed this.

Akechi can practically hear her sounds of reassurance and disdain. Breathy praises and punches to his gut every time his stomach heaves. It's horrible and disgusting and awful but it's the closest thing he's gotten to her in a long time.

A spike of _something_ lurches up inside him and he's back over the sink, bringing up his own creations.

After a while the feeling in Akechi's stomach settles and he's able to ease his fingers from around the rim of the sink. He washes out his mouth with water, and the lump in his throat goes down with it. He knows he must look sickly, hair pressed against his forehead with sweat, skin pale and lifeless. His classmates will probably make fun of him for not only his tardiness, but his appearance. They don't know he's perfectly fine, _better_ than fine.

It sings in his bones like a memory long forgotten, and he smiles.

The chair in Sasaki's apartment remains empty.

 

_-_

 

_[She breaks down a little more each time._

_Rough hands littered with calluses, fingernails too short and bloody from biting, bones almost protruding from her skin._

_She sees herself as a ghost, wasting away but continuing to still breathe as if it mattered still._

_She walks around because she has to, talks because she needs to, ruins herself because she desires it. People watch her with pity leaking down their faces, and she watches them back, drooping with slime only worthy of a monster._

_Because they're all monsters, all of them. Especially the one she created. She had made most hideous monster of them all, and now she can only blame herself as it sucks away at her._

_She didn't choose this, she didn't so why-!_

_Why does God decide to punish her so?]_

 

_-_

 

“What do you have there?” Sasaki says, peeking over his shoulder at his workbook.

“Homework.”

“Ah… Some English assignment about family? Well, if you ask me, family's bullshit.”

He knows, he knows.

 

_-_

 

_[Mudded hair sticks to metal buckets, spilling over and under, covered in slimy fish water. The stench fills the room and shoves itself down her lungs until all she can breathe is salty seawater dripping in decay._

_Her foolish pride and sick mistakes follow her down the slippery slope right into the bottom of the lake. Like a corpse- like a ghost- she floats to the top and vultures descend on her dying body, picking out her eyes and tongue. They stab their beaks into her repeatedly until they meet the black of her bone, and then crunch it beneath her soggy skin._

_She's bloating with the water that seeps into her pores; liquid sloshing around in her has never felt so savage. Her skin expands and stretches, eventually bursts with the pressure. Fish latch onto the pieces sinking in the water, and they eat it all up, like she's the only nourishment available._

 

_Mortal beauty is so clear to her now._

 

_She's the one who lives and dies in this underwater wasteland. She's the God, the Devil; the angels and sirens._

 

_She tries to speak up, to breathe her song into creation. Her voice cracks into the stale air. Immediately, a giant bird comes down from the heavens and rips her throat out with its talons. It throws away the muscle and goes for her chest next, mutilating her breasts along the way to her pure heart. It tears it out from her body and devours it in front of her. She watches as the blood stains its ugly wings._

 

_Buckets topple over and bathe her oil. Her hair sticks to the metal.]_

 

_-_

 

Sasaki isn't back yet.

 

It's a Wednesday night, at 11:46PM, and Akechi sits on the pull-out couch’s stiff cushion, ruler straight. He flips a page of his school book without truly reading the words.

 

_‘A home is a happy place where a mother, father, and children live. It's nice and beautiful, with crystal clear windows and homemade dinners, laughter and smiles, and a pet dog or cat.’_

 

Akechi rubs his eyes with lead marked and pencil indented hands. His vision is blurry around the edges and for a moment he sees a shadow skirting around the television. He rubs them again and looks. There's nothing there.

 

Anxiety creeps up into his stomach like a reflex, and travels throughout his body like venom. Shadows cover the walls but they aren't the one he's looking for.

 

He flicks the dog-eared page again and again.

 

_‘A home is where four walls connect to form a box where a mother and her son live. It's chilly and empty, with dirty windows and sun soaked walls, fake laughter and sharp smiles, and insects crawling all over the floors.’_

 

The clock above him ticks and tocks, bringing a ping of noise into the otherwise silent apartment. Akechi looks to the left, and stares hard at the curtain covering Sasaki's room. It doesn't move.

 

He can imagine the fish tank. Bubbles floating to the top each time the fish opens its mouth. Uneaten flakes laying still above the murky water, sinking slowly into the waste below. More strings of waste leave the fish's body and collect at the bottom. _Breathe in, exhale out._ He imagines the fish's poor overworked lungs and sickly scales falling off to reveal green skin. Blood fills the water and brown hair tangles into the whirlpool-

 

Hands cover his throat and _squeeze_. Nails rip apart delicate skin and leave bloody lines in their wake. He struggles to intake air but smog sticks to his lungs.

 

_‘A home is crusty dry skin, cigarette buds on countertops, bottles of alcohol littering the floor, and squashed spiders on hands. It's bruises around necks and the feeling of never having enough air.’_

 

Akechi's in the deep end, sinking and swimming all at once just to get away to where ‘anywhere’ is. It's the chloroform that covers his mouth and nose, and the smell of the books that line the walls. It's overwhelming and underwhelming all at once and his mind empties itself.

 

A voice that sounds suspiciously like _hers_ twirls around his ears and the shadow's _there_ it-

 

The front door opens.

 

The whisper of hands leave his skin like it burnt them, and knows if he looked into the mirror right now he would find the earliest signs of bruising. His lungs fill with crisp air, and expands and expands until they can't anymore.

 

Akechi's so preoccupied with processing the fact he can _breathe_ again, that he doesn't even register Sasaki stumbling into the room.

 

“Oh… Hey,” she says with a sneer on red smudged lips. “I've just been… Drinking with some buddies at work, yeah. They wanted to stop early though! So I headed home…” she hiccups in the middle of her sentence. “You see, work has been fucking _awful_ , and I wanted to unwind but everyone seems to be a party pooper.”

 

She trips over her black pumps and lands on the cushion next to him, a leg and an arm half over him. Akechi scoots over and tries to untangle himself from Sasaki, but she's heavier than she looks. She laughs back at him and flips her arm around the couch, red nails nicking at his nape. Her eyes catch onto the marks around his neck, and her sneer grows.

 

“Holy shit… No way. Were you doing some kinky shit in my apartment when I was gone? Disgusting!” She smacks the back of his head like she's oddly proud of him. “Mmm… I used to do that shit back when I was a kid too. Of course, it was never ‘cause I wanted to, and boy did I get in trouble, hah! Funny how the guy gets off scot-free, huh?”

 

Akechi doesn't say anything in reply and he hopes no matter how drunk she is, she gets the message to leave him alone. He's not in the mood for her drunk antics, and definitely not so soon after the living hell he just experienced. Usually they're not so bad, but apparently he's been keeping more in than normal. He just has to remember none of that was real, and it'll all go away. He doesn't have time to linger on it either, not with his current problem.

 

Sasaki kicks at his shin with her heel a little too hard and he grinds his teeth together.

 

“Come on… Entertain me! Tell me a story- oh wait! I will, nevermind! Okay so… There's this guy at work. He's a _real_ piece of shit. He's been riding my ass from day one, hounding me for a bunch of stuff he isn't even obligated to do! Today I found my papers missing- _important_ papers I needed for the meeting today. I was so fucking burnt out from finishing them last night that when I found out they were gone I just hid in the bathroom and cried. My boss chewed me out anyway. And- and I _know_ he did it!”

 

She throws the bottle she was holding against the wall, and half of it breaks into tiny pieces, the other half remains in her hand. Her black shoes teeter on her toes and eventually fall off, hitting the floor with a thump.

 

“The worst part is that he's done this shit to me and others before. He steals their work and then lies to the higher ups saying _we_ didn't finish it. He's too much of a coward to do it to men though; women are easier targets I guess.”

 

Sasaki stabs the broken bottle into the arm of the couch again and again, each time getting a little more rough. Akechi decides to keep still.

 

“And I mean… Is that all? Am I such an _easy target?_ Am I meant to lie down and take it each and every time- _fuck that!_ ” She screams, voice breaking around the edges.

 

She stumbles off the couch, hand pressing against bottle shards and leaving deep cuts. She doesn't seem to care, or perhaps she doesn't even register the pain. Sasaki paces, blood dripping onto her bare feet. They're covered in cuts and maybe Akechi isn't the only one who needs to ground himself with pain.

 

Sasaki brings her hands up to her head and _screams._

 

It continues like that for a while. Voice ripping out of her sore throat and crumbling down immediately. Akechi catches whispers of _‘daddy’_ and _‘mommy’_ and pleads of _‘please, please, don't do that. I'll be good.’_

 

He finds it pathetic, but it's not like he hasn't been there himself so he holds his tongue.

 

Eventually, she drags herself to her room, broken bottle and all. He watches as she flops on the mattress and tangles herself within the blankets. Akechi doesn’t know why- maybe it's just because he doesn't want her to die- but he goes up to her after she's started snoring, and cleans her up. He finally takes away the bottle, picks out the tiny pieces of glass still stuck in her palms and dresses the wounds, and turns her head to the side. He even brings her a trashcan to leave by her bedside.

 

Maybe it's familiar. Maybe it gives him some sense of usefulness. Maybe he's projecting. It doesn't matter anymore.

 

All he knows is that there's more to this woman called Sasaki Aoi, and he's determined to survive and tell the tale.

 

_-_

 

The next day Akechi wakes up, and everything seems normal.

 

Sasaki's sitting at her makeup table, and applying a light layer of mascara on her eyelashes. She's perfectly dressed as always, pressed skirt and ironed blouse fitting nicely on her body. Her hair is done back and there's the always present tint of blush on her cheeks. She looks alive and ready to tackle whatever challenge comes to her today.

 

In fact, the only evidence of the night before are the barely there cuts still on her palms. She seems she's take off the bandages and cleaned them again herself. Akechi tries to peer closer to see any sign of dark circles, but there are none.

 

She notices him staring, and looks at him in the mirror.

 

“Good morning! I have to say, thank you for yesterday. That doesn't usually happen so I'm a bit embarrassed. But as long as you're the only one who saw, I'm fine.”

 

Akechi nods and she smiles wider.

 

“Good.”

 

Sasaki gets up and opens the fish tank top to sprinkle in a little bit of food. The fish is seems to be looking a tiny bit better, but it could just be the sunlight bouncing off and making it appear healthier. Sasaki doesn't seem to care either way, and goes to make herself a cup of coffee. Akechi decides to follow her.

 

“How'd you recover so fast?”

 

Sasaki peeks over at him and leans against the counter. She shrugs.

 

“Not the first time this happened. I learned a few things, and it made getting up a little less like hell. But-” She looks at her watch. “I've got to go. It's getting late.”

 

She chews off a piece of bread and carries her briefcase to the door.

 

“If you want-” she starts, “I'll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours. Something to think about.”

 

-

 

Akechi ends up spilling dirty tales about his old foster families. Their lies, affairs, and deep secrets nobody but him knows about. Sasaki eats it up, and keeps coming back for more.

 

“Now you tell me something. You promised.”

 

“Hm, I did. Okay well how about this? That guy at my work? The one who keeps stealing shit? It's not just papers he's stealing, it's money from the company too. He blames it on other people and they get fired for the shit he did. It's hard to get him out, since his dad's an important figure,” she stops, and takes a breath. “So… Normally I wouldn't care but he made me his victim. I made a plan to deal with this of course.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Sasaki rolls her head back and watches the ceiling. Popcorn falling all around them.

 

“Fake sexual assault. I've been talking to one of my coworkers for a couple of months. Slowly spilling her little things here and there, about how I'm worried and uncomfortable about him. She's the type of person to not say anything until promoted so I know she'll be a great witness. It's not just her either. I've purposely been involving myself with him so other people will have seen us, and noticed how I looked. In a couple of months I'm going to get him alone on a day we're both working overtime, and poke at the bear until it growls, basically.

 

“My boss is a softie for female empowerment and all that progressive bullshit. It'll be an easy win.”

 

Akechi looks at her, and sees a monster. But it's a monster he can appreciate.

 

-

 

“Hard time getting it out?”

 

He's breathing hard against the toilet bowl. Deep breath in, wait, and release slowly. He didn't hear her come in, how he not have heard her? She's going to yell at him, scream until her lungs-

 

His stomach rolls.

 

“If you can't calm it down, then we'll have to bring it up.”

 

That's all Sasaki says before she's dragging his head back from the toilet and stuffing a long finger into his open mouth.

 

It's sudden and awkward; her knuckles hit his teeth when she gets far enough in, making slimy  spit form around her fingers. She digs and digs, until she reaches up, and tickles a place at the back of his throat. It sends him hurling forward, and again, he starts the birth of a new creation.

 

Soft hands pull back his sweat soaked hair off his forehead, shivers shoot down his spine and he can't help but lean into her touch.

 

This is so much more than he expected from her.

 

“That's good… That's good. Get it all out,” Sasaki says as she pushes her fingers through his sticky hair. “A finger works best when you want to throw up. Just push it in as far as it can go, and tickle up. I used to do it all the time as a kid, so don't worry. I get it.”

 

She's almost gentle in her motions, letting Akechi hack out everything inside of him, stroking a caring hand up his back. She smells and feels like _warmth_ , and it takes everything in him not to give in.

 

She's pretending, he know she is. Probably not on purpose; she's cruel, but never one to toss someone's heart around unnecessary. Sasaki is just a woman with no experience in human touch and comfort. She seeks acceptance, though. And that's something he doesn't mind giving her.

 

“I don't even know why I started throwing up. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I wanted attention… Actually that sounds about right. I craved my parents’ attention so much, makes sense that I was so needy I threw up hoping they would notice.”

 

She hands him a paper towel when he sits up, and slowly wipes his mouth.

 

“Did they?”

 

Sasaki smiles, a little sad and a little mean.

 

“Besides the belt every time I got less than an A? No. Figures, right? They had my darling little sister with her attention whore tendencies to look after. I mean, I'm over it now. It was a lot time ago. Of course I still think about it but-” she picks at her red nail polish, “What's done is done. I don't care anymore.”

 

It's a bullshit line he's heard millions of times over. From older kids at the institution who have never been adopted, and never will. From abusive foster parents who rant about lost opportunities. From himself.

 

They all simmer in apathy, resigning themselves to a fate of revenge never taken and words never said. Pretending as if those people haven't hurt them, and living out life like they still aren't fucked up.

 

To Akechi, it's a fate worse than death.

 

“Just call me Aoi. If I'm going to be seeing your puke, we should at least be on a first name basis, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Akechi says. “Yeah. Call me Goro.”

 

-

 

Aoi sits at her desk in a robe, with dozens of makeup products before her. She plucks out a tube of red lipstick from the pile and delicately drags it across her lips, pressing them together with a soft _smack_ to even out the colour. She looks at her reflection in the mirror and smiles.

 

It's the day of the festival, a day she's been chattering on about for a week nonstop. Aoi reminds Akechi daily of the proper behaviour he must exhibit there; hold your head up high- but respectfully- when addressing your elders, use polite and soft language, and never forget to call Aoi by her last name.

 

Akechi's not particularly fond of all the rules Aoi has given him, but he's here to perform, so perform he will.

 

Aoi looks back at Akechi looking at her, and winks. He huffs and turns back to the book he was reading.

 

It's a novel about the loss of loved ones and makeshift families, all held together by the author's beautiful writing. At least that's what the quotes on the back of the book say. Really, Akechi thinks it's just a bit over worshipped by the majority of Japan. Aoi tells him to keep his mind open to new experiences and viewpoints; he may find something useful in it, but that doesn't necessarily mean he'll change his opinion.

 

“Come on, Goro. We're going to be late unless you get your butt moving soon,” Aoi says with a dry tone, and Akechi knows not to test her.

 

He puts down his book with just a little annoyance, and follows her with his eyes to where she kept the yukata for him. It's her niece's apparently, stashed away and forgotten from the time where Aoi had housed her sister and her young daughter. Akechi sometimes forgets how cheap Aoi can be.

 

She wraps the sakura printed yukata around him tightly, pressing the fabric together to hold it in place and folding it with practiced ease. She finishes tying the deep pink _obi_ around his waist, and holds him back to look him over.

 

“Great. Now let's get your hair and makeup done.”

 

Akechi isn't used to having makeup on his face, but he finds himself enjoying it anyway. Aoi is gentle with the soft brushes she uses to apply the eyeshadow with, and careful when lines his eyes with black; even adding a little wing at the end. Then she applies a light coat of mascara and dusts some blush on his cheeks.

 

“Now for your accessories,” Aoi says with a twinkle in her eyes.

 

She pushes some of his bangs back with a sakura hairpin, and fixes it tightly on so it won't come out. Then she hands him a little pouch; apparently completing the outfit.

 

“You look perfect. I'm sure my boss will love the vibe you got. It's like you're testing the boundaries between masculine and feminine. He totally loves that stuff.”

 

Akechi looks in the mirror and sees someone so completely different that it shocks him. He would almost describe them as pretty, if not for the small imperfections he can pick out. That's what brings him back to reality, and reminds him of who's reflection it is.

 

His mother would probably be livid, seeing her son dressed up like a whore.

 

Aoi takes off her robe to smooth out her own yukata- red with accents of green- and pins her long hair back with an accessory. Akechi thinks it suits her beautifully.

 

“You ready?” Aoi asks.

 

“Yes.”

 

“All right, let's go.”

 

On their way to the front door, Aoi spots the book Akechi was reading, and smiles ruefully.

 

“ _Kitchen,_ huh? I guess that fits you.”

 

He never ends up asking her what that means, not when it matters anyway.

 

-

 

The festival is already so lively by the time they arrive. There's numerous booths out, selling everything from live fish to the most expensive accessories available. Crowds of people walk under strung up lights, all laughing and talking loudly. Couples hold hands with sweet smiles on their faces, and families keep their young children from running off too far.

 

Akechi clutches Aoi's hand closer, and plays the part of a shy son. She tugs him over to a group of people wearing yukatas like them, and greets them loudly.

 

This is the part where Akechi stands silently until mentioned. He doesn't say a word while Aoi ignores him in favour of her coworkers, and simply keeps a light smile on his face, not too wide to be alarming, not too shallow to seem uncomfortable.

 

Finally his name is called, and it isn't even Aoi who says it.

 

“That's you? Akechi Goro? My name is Nakahara Hitoshi. You look lovely!”

 

“Thank you,” Akechi replies, head tilted up and voice soft. Aoi beams from behind Nakahara and gives an encouraging nod. “You look handsome too.”

 

“What a charmer! You've got a good one, Sasaki.”

 

Aoi laughs along with him and spills some bullshit line like _‘I know, I'm such a supportive and kind foster mother’._

 

They converse for a bit after that, bringing him into the conversation occasionally on Nakahara's request. He likes to hear him talk about his activities with Aoi, and Akechi makes sure to fill his head with white lies.

 

Nakahara's the one who tells Akechi to go play with the other children, and Aoi asks him three times if he's sure, before sending Akechi off. She barely pays him any mind as he's swallowed into the crowd of people.

 

Akechi walks around aimlessly, wandering off to wherever catches his fancy. He spies on the game booths, watches the children try their hand at a game their destined to lose at, time and time again. One of the owners try and grab his attention- and money- before realizing he doesn't have an adult with him, and drops the pitch immediately.

 

He floats around some more, and eventually comes to a stop at a fish catching booth. He can't remember the name of this type of game, but the goal is to catch as many fish as you can with a paper fan. Akechi doesn't know what the appeal is, but he watches seemingly endless children try and fail at catching even a single fish. He knows it's not the source of entertainment, but he smiles because it's probably the most these children will ever lose.

 

“Hey, you gonna try that?”

 

Suddenly, a voice sounds from behind him, and Akechi whirls around to find a… scraggly boy? He's dressed in casual wear- dirt stained pants and shirt- that don't help conceal his unmade appearance. Akechi is instantly on edge.

 

“Um… No.”

 

“Oh, okay then,” says scraggly boy. “You looked sorta lonely so I thought I would ask. Bye then!”

 

He runs off, and Akechi's too shocked by the blunt disregard for basic manners that he doesn't get the chance to reply back. It doesn't matter that he doesn't know what he would say.

 

Akechi starts angrily walking off and gets to the very next booth before stopping. He wouldn't say he's curious, but he does wants to see if the boy is any good at the fish game. Maybe once he loses, Akechi will laugh at him and he'll run back to Aoi with a funny story to laugh about over drinks later.

 

When he gets back to the booth, he almost wishes he just kept walking because the boy is definitely not losing.

 

There's a crowd of children gathered around him, and it makes it a little difficult to tell that's even really the boy who insulted him, but the unruly hair is a dead giveaway. He's piling fish after fish into the bag of water next to him, swiftly skirting the paper fan along the surface, and scooping up another one. It's an unbelievably useless thing to have a talent in, but there's unfortunately no doubt this boy possesses one.

 

Akechi smashes his teeth together doesn't stop even when his head starts to hurt. It's _stupid_ . Why of all people is it the completely disheveled and ill mannered kid? Why is it not Akechi, the one who bares a pretty appearance, and as spent _years_ perfecting the art of kissing ass. Yet they all praise _him_ , over something so lame to boot. Maybe Akechi's dumb for getting so worked up so quickly over something simple. Other kids would probably laugh at him and call him a _girly_ because ‘it's just a game’. But that's the difference between them isn't it. It's not just a game to Akechi, it's his life.

 

He turns to finally leave when a hand grabs onto his sleeve.

 

“Wait!”

 

 _It's him,_ Akechi realizes with disdain. He's about to tell him to fuck off in a very un-childlike manner, when the boy holds something out in front of Akechi's eyes.

 

“It's… A bag of water?”

 

“What? No, there's a fish inside, see?”

 

The boy points to a small wiggly thing at the bottom of the bag, and however small, it's unmistakably a fish.

 

It looks half dead already.

 

“It’s for you. Do you uh, like it?”

 

“No,” Akechi says, because he's not above being rude back.

 

“Oh.”

 

The conversation- if it can even be called that- lulls for a bit. Akechi doesn't mind, no, but there's a question that been burning in his mind ever since he saw him there, scooping up all those fish like it was nothing.

 

“How did you catch all those fish?”

 

He looks up like he didn't expect Akechi to say anything back, and shrugs.

 

“I dunno. You just gotta feel the water and find how much pressure to put on it. And then all you need to do is catch the fish.”

 

“What does that even _mean?_ ”

 

He shrugs again.

 

“I can teach you if you want?”

 

Akechi stops. He can't believe he's about to say this but-

 

“Fine.”

 

“Oh, by the way, my name is Akira Kurusu,” he says, like the thought of introducing him just came to him.

 

“...Thanks, Kurusu. My name-”

 

“-Akira. Just call me Akira.”

 

“Okay… My name is Akechi Goro.”

 

 _Akira,_ drags him back to the fish booth and pays five dollars for another few rounds. He finds a good pool and then motions Akechi to kneel down next to him. With swift movements, Akira reaches in with the paper fan and catches two fish right away. This doesn't help Akechi understand at all and he tells Akira this. Akira smiles at him and does it a few more times just to show him.

 

Akechi looks at Akira's stupid cheeky smile, and asks to be shown again.

 

They end up with three bags of fish, four fish per bag. Akira lets him take two, just to make it fair. Akira leads him to different booths after that, and even wins a teddy bear for him. It's short and fat, but adorable and Akechi clutches it to his chest.

 

“Thanks,” Akechi says.

 

“No problem. It was fun. Hey, want ice shavings?”

 

Akira pays for a bowl to share, and they sit down on an empty spot on the sidewalk. Akira digs in right away, eating big bites before Akechi can even get a spoonful in.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Hey, what?” Akira says. “I paid for it, so I get the first bite, right?”

 

“Well-!” And there's really no rebuttal.

 

Akira pokes him in the nose with his spoon, and Akechi's face bursts into flames. Akira just smiles and sticks the spoon back into his mouth. Akechi's just about to yell out something- anything at this point- when the fireworks start.

 

They light up the sky above them, painting reds and blues and greens across dark night. Sparks shoot up and fade away into nothingness.

 

What a wonderful life it would be, to be a firework.

 

“You're pretty.”

 

Akechi's cheek that he buries his face into the sleeves of his yukata. He peeks out from between fingers and fabric to glare at Akira who apparently doesn't seem to find anything wrong with complimenting a boy he barely knows.

 

“You can't just say that!” he squeaks out.

 

Akira doesn't seem to listen as he rattles on about Akechi's eyes, hair, cheeks, and nose.

 

Akira is an _idiot_ , he is certain about that.

 

Akira reaches a hand across the pavement, shy fingers seeking out his own. Akechi doesn't move, even if the voice in his head begs him to. He keeps still, and lets Akira lace their hands together. It's warm, and sweet, and all the good things every fairytale as told him.

 

It's the stuff made from dreams that Akechi can't possibly deserve.

 

He accepts every soft touch though. And when Akira's lips press against his cheek, he closes his eyes and pretends this is a dream he never has to wake up from.

 

Every fairytale has its ending, though, and Akechi's comes not even a minute later.

 

He spots Aoi from around one of the booths nearby, and ducks as soon as her eyes skim over him. Akechi tugs on Akira's sleeve.

 

“Hey… I have to go now," Akechi says, pushing the bear into Akira's arms.

 

“What?” Akira looks at him, alarmed.

 

“My mom's here to pick me up. I need to go.”

 

“Wait! Just- meet me here again? Three days from now?”

 

 _Oh_ , it's so, so stupid. But it's not the first or last time today so really, does he care anymore?

 

“Okay, I will. Bye!”

 

With a burst of confidence, Akechi presses his own lips against Akira’s cheek, and runs as fast as his legs will take him. He's going to quickly he doesn't even notice Aoi and slams right into her legs.

 

“Ow! What the fuck?”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Akechi says, head in the clouds miles away from her.

 

She doesn't say anything for a few seconds, but then grabs his hand like she doesn't have time to deal with him.

 

“The others left so we're going home now. God, I'm so happy. My boss _loved_ you. I'm so getting that position.”

 

She carries talking about her work, and Akechi can't find it in himself to listen. For once in his miserable life, he's maybe found a little piece of sunshine.

 

-

 

_[Fins flap around uselessly and break the surface of the water each time._

 

_Hundreds- thousands of fish tremble as if they exist as one being. Hands comes down upon them and pull them out, limb by limb._

 

_What are they really?_

 

_Entertainment? Or a living being?_

 

_She doesn't know. She probably never will._

 

_Another hand comes down and breaks off her leg.]_

 

-

 

Akechi's in the same place exactly three days later, on a Saturday morning when Aoi is most definitely at work. He made sure of that beforehand.

 

In the daytime with all the decorations pulled down and packed away, the park looks completely different. He wonders if Akira will think the same of him.

 

“Goro!” Akira says, running up to him with crushed flowers in his hand.

 

“What are those?”

 

“Sakuras, like the ones you wore at the festival. I saw sakura trees on the way here and they reminded me of you.”

 

Akechi tries to have some dignity left, but he thinks Akira's presence is a repellant for anything of the sort.

 

“T-thanks.”

 

He doesn't give a shit that the branches are cracked and petals are bruised. He cradles them anyway and blushes all the way to his ears.

 

“So, what do you want to do?” Akechi says.

 

“Hmm… Anything.”

 

‘Anything’ turns out to be a numerous amount of things that have no real connection to each other. One minute Akira's climbing the tallest tree in the park just to get a particular flower, the next he's stopping by a random shop- at least to Akechi- and asking for the biggest crêpe like he's friends with the owner.

 

Maybe he is. Akechi wouldn't know.

 

They talk about nothing and everything all at once. Akira mentions that he actually lives in another town over, and he's here visiting Tokyo because is father got a temporary placement here in Tokyo.

 

(Looking back, Akechi should have stopped here. Torn away their budding friendship, and headed for the darkness of his heart. It's easier- he tells himself)

 

Akechi mixes truth and lie together, and weaves it into something decent enough for Akira. He tells him Aoi is his mother and his father's out of the picture. Surprisingly, Akira doesn't seem to care about this fact.

 

“That's okay. I mean, it's not _okay_ , but I get it.”

 

Akira most certainly doesn't but Akechi keeps his mouth shut.

 

(Still, he appreciates the gesture.)

 

When 3 o'clock hits and Akechi knows Aoi is bound to come back soon, he leaves Akira with a squeeze of his hand and a promise to meet again in a few days. Realistically, he doesn't know how long he can keep these promises for, but he knows he'll try anyway.

 

-

 

It's the same day that Aoi comes back and immediately grabs her cigarettes. It's never a good day when she does that.

 

Akechi follows her of course, for no reason other than his own demise.

 

She talks to him, and he half listens to her, half thinks about someone else.

 

Until-

 

“But at least I have parents, right?” Aoi nudges him with her shoulder, lips quirked like she's just told a particularly funny joke.

 

It's not.

 

Akechi isn't going to say that to her, however. He isn't going to unravel the emotional knot that lies within his chest. Especially not to her, his _friend_. She would look down on him. Tease him for not being able to handle her spiteful wit, her unique sense of humour. It's an insult Akechi can't bare to allow.

 

And so he digs his fingernails into his palm, creating small crescents like how _she_ used to. The pain grounds him, brings him to a place of comfort and stability. Perhaps it isn't the healthiest method, but when has his life ever been considered healthy.

 

“Ah, sorry. Was that too mean?”

 

Aoi smiles like she doesn't care if it was. He knows she doesn't. She's disgusting in her own right; cruel remarks slither out of her mouth naturally and she doesn't care who it hurts.

 

Akechi doesn't say anything. She takes another drag from her cigarette and flicks it against her ring finger. She's silent for a few beats before nudging him again.

 

“Wanna try?”

 

She holds her cigarette out, eyebrows slightly raised in question. The end of it glows and matches the pinks in the sky, creating an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

 

He knows she has expectations of him, and he's not willing to back down.

 

Akechi takes the cigarette between his fingers, holding it a little awkwardly. Her lips tilt up but she doesn't bother to correct him. It's embarrassing, knowing how apparent his lack of knowledge is. He's supposed to be unlike the other kids. He's supposed to be smart, mature, and appealing. Not naive- not something to poke fun at.

 

He sticks the cigarette between his lips, pretending he doesn't care how it looks, and inhales a great amount. Right away it sends him jerking over the balcony railing, coughing until all the smoke has left his lungs.

 

Aoi laughs, bright and condensing. He bites down on his lips to stop himself from coughing but all it results in are pieces of dried skin flaking off.

 

“Come on, hold it like this,” she rearranges his fingers to hold the cigarette properly. “Bring it into your mouth slowly… Good.”

 

He holds it there, afraid to breathe in again. A moment goes by and he allows himself to inhale, feeling the smoke slowly filling his lungs. It becomes too much too quickly though, and instinctively he tries to cough it out.

 

Her hand snatches his jaw, clenching it shut. Bright red nails catch along the soft bits of his skin.

 

“Don't open your mouth. Hold it in.”

 

Tears fill his eyes and he can't breathe, he can't _breathe._

 

“It's fine don't worry, a little bit more.” Her smile is sharp, unlike her words and he has a sick feeling she's purposely carrying this out for longer than she has to.

 

She releases his jaw after a few more beats, staring at him and he bends over and hacks out his lungs once more.

 

“Wow!” Her giggles are infectious and he tries to laugh along, feeling the tears slide down his cheeks.

 

He probably looks like a mess.

 

“You did good… For your first time anyway.” She takes back her cigarette and brings it into her mouth. “I'm going to finish this off.”

 

He smiles like he means it, and pretends he's not missing shaved ice and sticky fingers.

 

-

 

_[She hacks into the toilet, bringing up carrots, bringing up liquid, bringing up hair._

 

_Hands shake and grab onto the slippery seat._

 

_She sighs, breathes deeply but there's no air- no water?_

 

_And hurls again, bringing up scales.]_

 

_-_

 

 _One, two, three_.

 

“Wow,” Akechi says, impressed.

 

“I've been practicing, that's all.”

 

Akira swings his hand back to throw another stone into the lake, and this time it only skips twice. Akechi kneads his own stone in between his fingers, feeling the grooves and ridges that make it.

 

He wonders what makes Akira, Akira.

 

“What are your parents like?”

 

Akira stumbles on the next stone he throws, and it rolls sideways, not even landing in the water.

 

“They're cool.”

 

“And?”

 

“There's nothing else to say, I dunno. They let me do whatever I want, give me whatever I ask for, as long as I don't bother them anyway,” Akira says, getting ready to throw another stone in.

 

And, _ah_. Akechi understands. Neglect is another form of abuse. It's silent and slow, which makes it the most dangerous. Even the social workers have a hard time identifying a neglected child, usually because the child themselves doesn't know. They'll respond with simple answers any child could give, and the case would be closed.

 

It's sickening to think of Akira in that situation.

 

Akechi flips his own stone- _one, two, three_ times- and says:

 

“That's okay.”

 

-

 

Akechi watches her put on her mask.

 

It's… _Brilliant_ , in its simplicity and elegance.

 

In the morning an hour before work, Aoi sits in front of her vanity and stares at her reflection. She doesn't utter a single word but she doesn't need to; Akechi can see the hatred for herself build behind her eyes. She said once- while drunk off cheap wine- she reminded herself of a child during her morning routine. He can see it now, with her eyes raw and bloodshot, and her skin dull and dry.

 

She looks small. Small and _sad_. Akechi has enough experience with this feeling to easily see it in others.

 

With blank eyes and a weak soul, she picks herself apart. Dark circles from the night before stand out strikingly against her pale skin, dead pieces hang from her torn lips. They're mesmerizing; they're _human_ . For that single minute she's as vulnerable as they come, and Akechi thinks to himself _,‘she looks like she could have been a good person_.’

 

That's when she takes a deep breath and readies herself for the day. He sees those small details vanish before his eyes, as tinted moisturizer is slathered on her face and concealer covers up those ugly acne scars she hates. Mascara thickens her eyelashes and blush makes it seem as if she's happy.

 

It’s not enough though; she's only satisfied when her favourite red lipstick has been applied. She smiles big and wide with too many teeth, sliding the product back and forth so that it smears on her lips. She smacks them together, making a _pop_ sound and gives a final sharp smile to her reflection.

 

The change is so sudden, Akechi wonders how on earth a few products could alter the appearance of a person like that. Now, that she is well made and put together, she radiates ice. There is no sign of the weak little girl in the mirror, and in her place is a beautiful and capable woman who looks like she could bring the world to its knees.

 

Her smiles are cruel and her eyes are cold. She's fake in all her glory, and Akechi thinks she looks _magnificent_.

 

-

 

“What would you do if you had only one day to live?”

 

Akechi stops in the middle of eating his ice cream- strawberry flavored- leans back against the bench they're sitting on in Yoyogi Park. Birds chirp loudly from above them, and a older couple throws bird seeds a couple benches away from them.

 

Akira looks at him, waiting an answer, and Akechi hums a little, pondering nothing.

 

“Probably this.”

 

“Really?” Akira looks a bit skeptical, and Akechi doesn't think he has the words to explain how much he means them.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay… Then I'll pick this too.”

 

Akechi bites his tongue hard enough that a bit of blood slips onto his lips. It's all to keep his smile down, and he prays one day he'll be able to show Akira without wanting to kill himself.

 

Slowly but surely, Akechi rests his head against Akira's shoulder while his eyes sting with something he doesn't want to name

 

He ignores all of Akira's questions after that.

 

Akechi always comes back, though. Days upon days spent with Akira. Shining under his light and basking in the warmth he brings. It's addictive, and that scares him.

 

-

 

“I've never had friends to do this with,” Aoi says as she paints a straight stripe on Akechi's toenail.

 

The colour is red, to match hers. _‘A little mini me!’_ Aoi had said. And Akechi's chest swells with pride at the thought.

 

“Does it look pretty?” he asks, because he has to know for sure, that this is something he can feel good about. That Aoi feels good about.

 

“It's my favourite colour, of course it's pretty.”

 

She swipes again on his toenail, making the red even deeper. “Who knows, one day you might even be prettier than me.”

 

She gives him a clipped smile, and continues painting.

 

“So you like that boy, right?”

 

Playing dumb with Aoi never worked in the past and won't work now. The least he can do is own up to it. Still, he wonders how she had found out.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Hm. I saw you both at the festival. He's cute.” Akechi blushes, and she laughs- a little on the side of mean. “Just be careful, okay? Remember what I told you.”

 

“Yes…”

 

There's nothing more to say, and Aoi finishes painting his toenails.

 

-

 

Akechi is fake.

 

Times with Aoi, times with Akira.

 

There's a mask for each and a mask for every other time with any living person on this planet. He's kind and soft with Akira, mature and cold with Aoi.

 

And the default? It's nothing.

 

Because more often than not, Akechi hates himself.

 

It's easy to do it, when his entire existence is based off of _waste_.

 

Wasted bones that hold his being up, wasted skin that covers him, wasted blood that runs through his veins. They're all a beautiful waste that cakes him up, lathers him in sweet lies and a pretty face. Just to mask the fact that nothing lies underneath his skin.

 

He holds no potential other than that he supposes, it's probably why Akira pays him any attention. The first time they met, Akira had said he looked _“pretty”._ But what is that, besides shallow outward appearances that anyone can replicate. That doesn't make him special, it doesn't give him any sort of advantage over others.

 

He knows and accepts this.

 

His mother-

 

His mother had said the same. Took his tiny face within her palms and crushed it _oh so_ delicately, with fingers made of steel and a heart made of stone. She had smiled sweetly, and said the only worthwhile thing about him was his face.

 

He remembers the cold look in her eyes when she said this. The disgusting glee burning within them. Akechi knows she meant every word she said, knows how she found pleasure in degrading him.

 

Now those words come back, swinging and banging against his mind, singing tunes of worthlessness and pretty faces. It's embedded in his soul, chained to his heart. He's nothing more than something to abuse, to use. And he might be okay with that.

 

-

 

Akechi knows he doesn't have to wait for Aoi to show up. He knows, and yet here he is, sitting on the pull-out couch, and half heartedly watching _Phoenix Ranger Featherman R._ It's mostly guilt that keeps him awake, eyes switching from the television to the door. He doesn't want to admit it, but the pit in stomach grows stronger every time Aoi whines about how much he goes out.

 

On screen, _Red Hawk_ strikes a pose and yells out an inspiring line. Akechi allows himself to get sucked in.

 

Hours pass, and Aoi finally stumbles into her apartment at 12:35AM.

 

Her blouse is drenched and sticks to her unattractively, highlighting the parts of her Akechi knows she's most insecure about. She carries a bottle in her hands, newly opened apparently, from the way the alcohol sloshes over and onto her floors. If she cares she doesn't voice it, instead preferring to kick off her heels while making her way to the kitchen. She grabs a pack of _Mevius_ cigarettes from the counter, but doesn't open them.

 

She doesn't speak, and only glances at Akechi to acknowledge his existence, and then turns back to the beer bottle in her hand. It's eerily familiar to his numerous experiences with his old foster parents. ‘ _Children should be seen, not heard’._ It's almost funny how that one saying could be so universal.

 

Akechi watches her now, with her head tilted and back against the counter. She taps a red fingernail on the bottle's neck.

 

He decides to give her some privacy- or as much as she'll get- and turns back to the book he was currently reading, _The Tale of Genji_. It's a more of a difficult read, but the challenge proves distracting enough. He had gotten it from Aoi's stack of books, of course after having confirmed she was okay with him borrowing one. The pages are a little worn and almost yellowing, and the cover has tiny scratches all over it.

 

“Where were you today?” Aoi says in a sing-song tone.

 

Akechi looks up from the line he was reading, and into her eyes. They’re brimming on the edge of mirth, and no matter how dark it seems, he'll take what he can get.

 

“I was out.”

 

It's matter-of-fact, firm, and pure in its truth. It's also exactly what Aoi doesn't want to hear, Akechi knows.

 

“With that boy, yeah?”

 

“Akira. Yes.”

 

“Right… You're out a lot lately.”

 

“I guess.”

 

She quirks the side of her lip up, enough to be a half-smile, enough to be a sneer. It's a little too sharp either way.

 

Aoi approaches him with silent and confident footsteps, and Akechi tightens his hands around the book. The paper crinkles in his grip and so he forces himself to ease the hold.

 

She looks down at him and tilts her head to read the cover.

 

“Ah. _‘Real things in the darkness seem no realer than dreams.’_ It's a quote from page ten.” Her lips twitch like she's waiting for a reaction, and when she gets none she continues anyway. “Hah! I'm just kidding, I don't know what page it's on. Just like that line.”

 

Akechi doesn't respond when she laughs obnoxiously at him, as if he's lost on her joke. If anything, she's the one who's lost right now.

 

She kneels down to bring her half smudged lips close to his ear, and he can smell the alcohol on her breath.

 

“Just be careful, alright?” she whispers.

 

“I will.”

 

It's not a promise and they both know that, but it'll do for now. Aoi swallows down that lie like it's the truth anyway. If she feels better bobbing for apples in an apple-less barrel, he'll humour her.

 

“And you'll hang out with me soon right? I feel like we should connect more. You've been gone too long, little butterfly. One day you'll get caught.”

 

“...Yes.”

 

“Okay. Thanks.” She stands up and jiggles the pack of cigarettes in her hand. “I'm going out for a smoke. Be back in a bit.”

 

Akechi watches her go and turns back to his book. He can't seem to read the lines anymore, and his breathing feels short. He decides to stop reading and sticks a piece of tissue paper between the pages as a bookmark.

 

The fish swims lazily around its cage, and a bubble rises to the top.

 

-

 

Akechi can't focus on anything today.

 

The teacher at the front of the classroom drones on and on about some unnecessary bullshit they most likely won't need to know ever again, and hands out worksheets. When the teacher gets to him, she puts his sheet on the very edge of his desk, like she's being extra careful not to touch him. Akechi almost stabs her hand with his pencil.

 

He hasn't seen Akira in a few days and he's getting antsy.

 

Akira had warned him of course. Told him he wasn't going to be able to hang out until next Monday, and that's fine, really. He understands Akira has other friends and responsibilities, Akechi just didn't expect it to hurt so much.

 

He crushes the pencil lead into his desk, rubbing into the wood.

 

It's just- Akira is _his_ friend, his first ever real friend. Akira himself had called them _best friends_ so that had to mean something right? Friends spend time with each other and play together and do all those little things Akechi thought he would hate. Until he met Akira that is. For some reason still unknown to him, Akira warms his tiny cold heart, and that makes him sick.

 

Akechi's vision turns hazy and he rubs his eyes. When he opens them and they aren't any better, he rubs them again.

 

“Five more minutes!” the teacher calls.

 

His classmates only get louder and louder and their voices ring in his ears. Akechi clutches his head. He shoves himself to the left to at least get a gulp of fresh air from the open window, and that's when he sees it.

 

 _She's_ there, watching from her place behind a tree. Her piercing eyes dig deep into his soul and he can almost _hear_ her voice banging around in his head. She whispers words to him, planting seeds of doubt and disgust into his brain. He doesn't need her to tell him anything.

 

Akechi knows how completely fucked up he is, and he knows how his relationship with Aoi is waning. He can see how hurt she seems lately, how she pretends to smile for him when he arrives later than usual, or when he presses a flower into his workbooks. His pathetic feelings are slowly eating away at the rest of his life and he can't do anything about it.

 

It would've been better to take Aoi's advice. To keep everyone at a distance, to not let anyone in. To use them for all they're worth instead. This is how people like them get ahead in life, and he's not helping himself by going against the flow.

 

These are the consequences of his actions.

 

A battered mind, and broken heart to share.

 

A hand slams down on his desk and Akechi trails his eyes up to glare daggers into his teacher's eyes.

 

“If you aren't going to finish your work, the least you could do is tell me. Honestly, I don't know why I put up with you.”

 

Akechi can't find any regret inside him minutes later, when he's in the office for stabbing his teacher's hand with a pencil. Aoi is less impressed, but she talks with the principal to ease things over and winks at him she's done. Apparently he's suspended for a couple of days but there's no more damage done. When Akechi says how she did it, she only smiles at him and says she'll tell him when he's older.

 

-

 

It's a week after that, that Akira kisses him outside of Aoi's  apartment for the first and last time.

 

It's a mistake surely, but in the moment, he finds he can't care about Aoi's always watchful eyes.

 

“Bye…” Akechi says with a dopey smile on his face.

 

“See you soon,” replies Akira.

 

He prays to God that he hopes he will.

 

-

 

It's silent tonight.

 

It's deafening in its ice cold heaviness, the weight pressing down on Akechi with unbelievable pressure. It stuffs itself down into his lungs with no regard for how he feels. It's brutal and familiar. The frozen chill stings his skin just like how he remembers it, and it's almost comforting.

 

They both know what this is about.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Akechi sees Aoi shift her left leg a couple inches forward from her place on her bed. The curtain is drawn this time; she obviously wants him to see her. She leans on her right arm, and taps her nails on the crisp bedspread.

 

He refuses to be the first to break the sickening silence. In his experience with his never ending foster homes, it is never a smart move, as it usually escalates to verbal and physical abuse. Aoi would definitely explode like a mini firework, but instead of beautiful colours it's sharp words and cruel playfulness.

 

So he rather sit as still as a statue, covered in marble to mask the delicate tissue that lies beneath.

 

Aoi stretches her left leg out further and tilts her head slightly. She's waiting patiently, just like the well mannered lady she isn't. Akechi knows she's waiting for him to break but he won't. He's been in this exact situation before with countless other demons in disguise. He won't bow down before her and beg for her forgiveness. He knows he hasn't done anything wrong. He _knows_ and yet a familiar feeling of guilt crawls into his stomach and settles.

 

He wants to throw up.

 

He bites his tongue to stop apologies from flooding the air but it's too late. Guilt consumes him and he's right back to where he always was and always will be. Just a scared child looking to please the adults that hurt him.

 

“I- I'm _sorry._ I'm sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For- For not telling you.”

 

“And?”

 

“And for spending too much time with him.”

 

“ _And?_ ” There's a hard edge to her voice now.

 

“And for… Letting myself get carried away.”

 

“You’re not sorry for not _listening_ to me!” Aoi yells and slams her free hand down on the bed. The sound it makes is light but that doesn't minimize the anger she radiates. “ _That’s_ what you should have said. I told you not to get too involved with him and that's exactly what you did. Now look at you. You're sick.”

 

Akechi thinks she almost sounds pitiful and that makes it all the more worse.

 

“I'm… I really am sorry.”

 

“Oh, Goro,” Aoi says as she stumbles her way over to him. She takes his hands within hers and cracks up a tired smile. “ _I'm_ sorry you had to get pulled around by a- A troublesome child,” she speaks around the word with disgust, like she'd rather not use it at all.

 

“No… You're right. I'll be more careful.”

 

“Good,” she says, smiling. “Now, I got you some chocolate. Wanna hang out and paint each other's nails? I'll even pour some of that fancy wine you like.”

 

Her voice reeks of desperation but Akechi is too scared to point that out.

 

“Okay.”

 

Aoi smiles, big and wide, and it all Akechi can think of is the smell of vomit.

 

-

 

_[It's 12 o’clock and the lighthouse shines its light._

 

_Little children wave chubby hands to their fathers and their tummies rumble. Mothers come out to collect and kiss their husbands on the cheek._

 

_Boats set sail on the shoreline and the cloudy sky swallows up any sunshine that dares to break through. Fishermen grab the boat's ropes and steer this way and that, finding the perfect symphony in the rolling waves. They play with their little wooden boat._

 

_Nets are swung out into the water, and are right away filled with fish. Their mouths gape feebly and their legs and arms tangle with the others. The top of the nets strain and expand as more humanoid fish fills them._

 

_Once the fishermen have collected all the fish they can possibly carry, they reel back in the nets and stuff their catch in mold covered buckets. The fish squirm and throw themselves around in the green tinted bucket water._

 

_The lighthouse guides the fishermen back through the grey mist, and then dock the boats._

 

_The fish resists as much as they can when the butcher reaches into the bucket and plucks one out. He pins them down by their scaly head and hacks it off cleanly. One by one, webbed fingers go into buckets of bubbling fish blood, and slimy legs hang off the butcher's table._

 

_Townspeople gather out in the square sing praises to the heavens above, thanking them for their meal. When the day goes dark, and the lights flicker off, they split open from the inside, and demons feast.]_

 

_-_

 

“If you care at all,” Aoi says. “I did it. He's fired now. Been for a while.

 

“Okay,” Akechi says.

 

He doesn't.

 

-

 

Sometimes, Akechi feels like he's priceless.

 

It must have something to do with the way Akira stares at him when he doesn't think he's looking. Soft glances from the corner of his eyes, sneaking so sweetly and gentle.

 

Now, Akira picks the sakura petals off the green grass beneath them, bunching them around Akechi's head from where he's laying on their blanket.

 

“There. Now you look even prettier.”

 

Akechi tries not to blush- and fails. Pink creeps up onto his cheeks, spreading down to his neck.

 

“Akira, _please,_ ” he says.

 

Apparently Akira doesn't hear (more likely, doesn't care), because all he does is quirk up the side of his mouth and dump more sakura petals on Akechi's head.

 

“Just say you're pretty. For some reason, you never do,” Akira says as he twirls a finger around curly strand of hair.

 

A lump forms in Akechi's stomach. He's aware of his… Refusal to voice certain things about himself. It's usually with ill intent anyway; Aoi likes to play around and his mother never missed a chance to beat him up emotionally and physically. Considering his past, it makes sense why he doesn't want to vocalize anything about himself.

 

“I think you're prettier.”

 

“Nice try. But come on, say it.”

 

If it's the spark in Akira's eyes or the rose tinted glasses he has on, Akechi doesn't know. What he does know, is that words are slipping out of his mouth so easily they might as well be liquid.

 

“I'm… Pretty.”

 

“There you go!” Akira laughs, loud and bright, and Akechi thinks the warm feeling in his chest just might be love.

 

Winds carries more petals down, and they fall one by one on top of them. A single petal lands directly on Akira's head, and giggles tumble out of Akechi's lips. Happiness comes easy to him when he's around Akira. All it takes is a silly joke, a slight smile, or even just a glance in his general direction. Sometimes it makes Akechi feel stupid for throwing away so much just for these moments of freedom. But one look Akira's way and he knows he would willingly spend the rest of his life chained down, if just for another day with him.

 

It's honestly pathetic and downright _sad_ , but-

 

Perhaps that's just love,

 

Hands tied with complex knots and dancing anyway.

 

-

 

The timer stops and starts again. Another day goes by and Akechi draws an _X_ over a box.

 

_-_

 

She's in the chair.

 

Akechi doesn't have to look directly at it to sense her presence. Her everlasting stare of disgust that seeps into the skin on his back, the way it engulfs him in an aroma of dread and decay… It's all so fresh in his mind.

 

“You're so fucking pathetic.” She speaks quietly, but each word is laced with so much venom he can feel it in his very soul.

 

Fear locks his muscles in place and sickness fills his entire being. He can’t move, can't see, can't even _breathe_ without her noticing. He feels on display in his own personal torture chamber, made specifically for her entertainment. He straightens his back anyway; she always hated it when he slouched.

 

“You were always so pathetic. Unwanted and unloved you continued to cry to me. Ruined my clothing with your snot and tears… And still you had the audacity to beg for forgiveness when I hit you,” he can hear her take steps towards him, ghostly and dark. There's a limp in her step from where her left leg drags against the floor. “I remember putting every bruise on you. Cutting you with my nails… Feeling your bones crunch under my fists… I _miss_ it.”

 

His palms sweat atop his thighs, wetting the fabric of his pants. It's so hard to keep them steady- they're shaking, he knows they're shaking but he can't _move-_

 

“And every time you _pleaded_ ,” a decaying hand snaps out from the darkness and tightly wraps around his throat. “Every time you apologized to me, over and over… It made me hate you even more.”

 

Bruises blossom like flowers on his skin and sharp but broken nails create rivers out of his blood. It's streaming down his neck and back, sticky lanes made from him, on him, in him. The pain keeps him awake and alert and it hurts- it _hurts_ , but it feels so good to be wanted and he's missed this too.

 

Matted clumps of bloodied hair fall onto his lap and he bites through his lip trying to hold back a scream. They wiggle around like snakes, tasting the fear off of his skin and loving every second of it.

 

He's tired, he's so, so tired but he knows he can't sleep. She won't let him. She'll wait and linger and simmer in her anger until it's been all emptied onto him, and then he'll drag himself to his nest of blankets and lick his wounds. It's the way it's always been and he's too comfortable to change it.

 

The hand squeezes tighter and a finger breaks off, landing straight onto the pile of brown strands of hair on his lap.

 

“I'll kill you one day, baby. I swear to _God_ , I will.”

 

Akechi wakes up with a scream and a name on his dry lips.

 

-

 

Of _course_ it wouldn't last but Akechi has always played himself a Fool.

 

Akira doesn't even _live_ in Tokyo. He lives in some bumpkin small town, and was just visiting the big city because of his father's temporary placement.

 

Akechi hears himself ask why, _why, why, why_ -

 

And doesn't hear what he wants to hear.

 

Aoi was right, she was always right. There's no use putting your heart and soul into relationships that only leads to your own demise.

 

The date to Akira's departure draws nearer and Akechi wraps his hands around his throat.

 

-

 

Aoi roughly grabs onto his arms, digging her nails into his skin so hard it bleeds. She has a wild look in her eyes, fiery as always but now there's fear in them, so clear he can feel it.

 

“I know you think you love him but you _don't_ . You don't. You love what he promises you,” she says, grabbing at his chin when he turns his face away. “You want- Crave that love and affection. I know you do. But it isn't realistic. It doesn't _exist_. It's only a lie they spread around to the weak to keep them hopeful and submissive.”

 

She grinds each word out like it hurts her to speak them, and he can hear her heart break underneath it all.

 

“What I don't understand… Is why the _fuck_ you thought abandoning me for him was a good idea.”

 

Sandpaper scapes against his throat. He doesn't want to answer her but her nails hurt so badly and they hurt, they hurt, they _hurt_ , _please stop-_

 

“I… I-I-” His teeth clash together when he tries to form words, sending him straight into the fire pit.

 

“God, just stop stuttering and say something for once in your goddamn life!” She screams in his face and it takes everything he has to not crumble in front of her. “I take _care_ of you, I _helped_ you with all your fucking baggage and this is how you repay me? By spitting in my fucking face?”

 

Screams build in the bottom of his throat and bubble up in his mouth. Without his permission they rip out of him and-

 

“You're right! You're right, okay? It's worthless, it's all just worthless. I never should've talked to him! I'm sorry!”

 

He doesn't even know if he means it or not. His opinion doesn't matter though, Akira is leaving in exactly four days and after that,

 

Akechi is alone again.

 

Like a whiplash, Aoi changes and cradles him to her chest. Gentle hands feeling like boiling oil against his skin.

 

“That's all I wanted to hear. You know what you have to do now.”

 

-

 

The fish swims in its own filth.

 

Waste collects at the bottom of the tank, littering the water in tiny clusters that leave the water murky.

 

A long strand of brown leaves its body, and meets the others below. The fish continues to swim, and continues to stay disinterested.

 

Akechi turns away and leaves the fish to rot away in its own dirt.

 

-

 

Akechi stops seeing Akira.

 

It's a constant battle in his heart, and a whirlpool in his mind.

 

Aoi smiles at him proudly, his mother wraps her long claws around his throat, Akira… He doesn't think of what Akira is doing right now.

 

When the storm inside him gets too much, it overflows and obstructs his vision, large murky waves spilling over his head and dragging him below into its depths. Fish roll up and down and inside him, too slippery to hold and too cold to let go.

 

It's his fault. His fault- all his fault.

 

_-_

 

“Thanks for everything. I had a good time.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Akechi looks back at her, matching her smile to a _T_ , and exits the car. He can hear the tune of a popular pop song still playing on her radio, and he makes sure to crunch every sakura petal beneath his feet.

 

He looks up to the large building in front of him, imagines dozens of messy kids with zero pride or dignity, imagines the late night fears and cold distant touches, and thinks,

 

_This is home._

 

 

 

_-_

 

 

 

_It's easier to stay quiet (talk to you, they all talk to you),_

_And not speak a word,_

_For if I do, then the truth might emerge,_

_They are my emotions to feel,_

_Nobody can poison my feelings if they're never revealed,_

_I'll watch others live in loudness,_

_And I'll destroy the chaos in my way,_

_I have the control,_

_If I keep what's mine, I can have the purest soul,_

_And live with content, free from fear,_

_I choose my actions,_

_I'm the gatekeeper.”_

 

_°°°°_

 

_Don't let me die with my soul in the air,_

_Don't let me die when there's nobody here.”_

 

_-Mercy/Gatekeeper - Hayley Kiyoko_

  


**Author's Note:**

> :DDDD
> 
> I don't want to point out what everything means so I'm going to leave it open.
> 
> Edit: omg I'm such a fucking idiot. If there's one thing I need to say it's that a toire is a Japanese toilet, also used to describe the room it's in. Cuz they keep their bathroom and toilet in separate rooms, I had to Google wtf they called the "toilet room" and like fuck I was saying that in /my/ fic. So yeah. That's why I used toire lol.
> 
> Also: check out the books Akechi was reading! They're really good, and might give you some insight into why I used them :D


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